


Necessity

by nbj



Series: The War Within [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Murder, Other, ignores the comics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28192101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbj/pseuds/nbj
Summary: "That's what mothers are like; if you mess with their babies...they'll bite you back!" - UrsaAfter killing Azulon to save Zuko, Ursa shares one last cup of tea with Ozai. She knows her children will never be safe with this man, so she takes fate into her own hands.
Relationships: Ozai/Ursa (Avatar)
Series: The War Within [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2098368
Comments: 13
Kudos: 45





	Necessity

Through the tea room’s windows, Ursa could see the first stripes of pink at the night-blue horizon. A new day was coming, the old night was dying; as the old Fire Lord had died, as the new one would soon.

The heavy curtains partly covering the high windows reminded Ursa of her days at the theatre. She let her mind wander back to a time when she had been free of worries, free in a world that consisted of plays, acting and joy. Back then, she hadn’t known anything about politics or her future role in them.

Because really, nothing else it was she had been doing over the past nine years: acting. When the royal delegates had come to her parent’s house and asked questions about their families, Ursa hadn’t thought much of it. She had always known that her grandparent had been involved in the war somehow. Maybe, they’d come to finally pay them the honour they deserved for their service.

Instead of presenting a newly given medal, her mother had come into her room crying as soon as the delegates had left and started to frantically explain that Ursa was to bring great honour to their family. She had been lying back then, Ursa knew. Her mother had never been one to care much about honour or politics. She cared about her family, her farm, and her village. Anything beyond that was a nuisance at best and a threat at worst.

Yet, her mother had tried to paint the arranged marriage as the best thing that could possibly have happened to Ursa. After all, she was to marry directly into the Fire Nation royal family. They had much bigger theatres at the capital, her mother had told her. She had bribed her with promises of freedom and elegance, of prosperity with which she could attend any show she wanted and learn from whoever she desired to study under. She had been seventeen back then, a young woman already. Wouldn’t she want to leave her small, dingy village behind anyway, her mother had asked, to see the big wide world, to see the towering houses of a city. She would have it all and would live her life as a princess on top of that.

She had not known much about the royal family back then. Sure, everybody knew their names and the most important successes and milestones of those in the line for the throne. Ursa might even have been able to recount some of crown prince General Iroh’s most quoted speeches. But her knowledge had not reached beyond that. Surely not towards the second son of Fire Lord Azulon who had been born many years after his brother, almost like an afterthought. Ursa remembered clearly the terror that had set in during the long journey to the Capital when the realization had hit her that she soon was to marry a man she only knew by name.

Yet, as soon as she had arrived, she had been welcomed a woman of noble blood. And, for a short while, she really _had_ lived the glorious life of a commoner-turned-royal.

Accidentally, Iroh had been the first person from the royal family she’d met. When the carrier had arrived at the palace, Ursa had been told by the delegates accompanying her that she was to wait outside while the Fire Lord and her future husband were informed about her arrival. Ursa still remembered the magnificence with which the palace had awed her. From the stair’s finely crafted handrail to the roof’s golden edges. What had caught her eye back then, though, had been the small golden figurines lining the balustrade of a low wall that encircled the plaza she’d been left waiting at. As she had stepped closer, she had been able to make out the finely crafted statues of various animals native to the Fire Nation. Iguana-seals, tiger-monkeys, turtle-ducks, and even dragons, none of them bigger than her thumb, lined the wall.

She had been so enchanted by the wonderful craftsmanship that she hadn’t noticed the man standing between the bushes at the foot of the wall until his low voice had boomed underneath her.

“These were crafted by Shinmo himself. He was said to be the greatest goldsmith who’s ever wandered this earth.”

With a cry, Ursa had jumped back from the balustrade, clutching at her chest where her heart had given a frantic jump of fear. Before she had been able to compose herself and step back to the rail, the man had run up to her, hands outstretched as if to catch her and already apologizing.

“Forgive me, my Lady, I had not meant to scare you. Do you feel well?”

All Ursa had been able to do was nod, because by then she’d realized who exactly she’d met - and yelled at. Quickly, she fell into the appropriate bow and formed the flame with her hands like her mother had shown her over and over in the few days they’d spent together between the delegate’s arrival and Ursa’s departure.

“It is my honour, Prince Iroh, to--” Ursa had been cut off mid-sentence by warm hands grasping her arms, gently pulling her up into a straightened posture.

“Please, none of that. After all, If I understand correctly, you’re going to be my sister-in-law very soon.”

The wide smile and warm gaze Iroh had greeted her with had made her feel more welcome than any words he could have ever said. And that was exactly how their relationship had unfolded over the years. He would always be there for her with a gentle smile, advice and (as Ursa later learned) tea, whenever she’d needed a listening ear. He had also been the first to pick up on her love for the arts, and the theatre specifically, and had started to gift her with tickets to the premiere of this and the rehearsal of that small play.

It would have been very unbefitting for a Fire Nation Princess to go see such small, “unprofessional” groups, as Ozai had remembered her with disdain and pity clear in his eyes. (The pity had hurt more than the disdain. Because Ursa knew she was pitied for her lack of knowledge and manners.) But it would have been even worse to refuse or ignore a coupon gifted to her by the Crown Prince himself. They had grown closer and soon Ursa had started to see Iroh more as _her_ big brother rather than her husband’s.

He’d always been the strong, everlasting tree in the storm that her life had become at the palace. And now, the tree was broken, the trunk splintered by Lu Ten’s death.

As much as it pained her, Ursa understood why Iroh was gone, maybe never to return. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain that was losing your child. Which brought her right back to the absolute mess that was her current situation. Unlike Iroh, Ursa still had the chance to save her child. And that was exactly what she was about to do while she sat at the low table, alternately stirring the two cups of tea that sat in front of her.

She could not imagine a life without one of her children in it. Ursa swore to herself that she’d do _anything_ before letting harm befall Zuko or Azula.

A voice that sounded way too much like Zuko’s small pleas whispered at the back of her mind that her vows were nothing but noble talk. How many times had she calmed Zuko down while applying ointments and soothing kisses to a harsh bruise here or a fingerprint-sized burn there, and repeatedly reassured him that Ozai loved him and that he was good enough? And every time she’d vowed to end her husband then and there. She’d been such a coward.

Now that she sat there, dissolving the poisonous seeds in her husband’s tea, she could only marvel at how easy it was and how long it had taken her to properly protect her children.

Ursa knew that it was not only Zuko who she was saving. But with Zuko, at least, she knew how to be a safe haven for him. She could be there for him, provide comfort. She didn’t know how to save Azula from a threat that was none. At least not a visible one. Azula, after all, had always excelled at everything Ozai had excepted from their children. Still, Ursa feared for her little girl. She feared for the day when Azula couldn’t meet Ozai’s ridiculously high expectations anymore. She wished Azula would let herself be held and loved as openly as Zuko did. Yet, Ursa understood why Azula wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ , allow it. She’d seen, after all, how such apparent weakness was treated.

Until this day, Ursa had many times wondered in the secluded space of her lonely bed, whether Ozai even loved their children. She knew he didn’t love _her_. But that was okay. It was even expected, given that they were in an arranged marriage. Since Ursa didn’t feel any love for Ozai either, it was probably for the best that way.

Nevertheless, in those traitorous doubtful moments, Ursa had wondered whether Ozai harboured real love and affection for his children, instead of simply seeing them as heirs to and royals of the war-waging Fire Nation.

_They are a necessity_ they’d told her after the wedding.

_The sole reason why she was even here_ , Ozai had once yelled at her, when she’d wriggled out of his lustful embrace to continue reading an exceptional play. Yet, he had heeded her unwillingness and even waited until she’d initiated contact some nights later.

When Ursa had been fifteen, her childhood friend Rina had spent the night with the town’s blacksmith’s son after they’d celebrated the solstice-festival. Back then, Ursa hadn’t been able to wrap her head around the concept of sleeping with somebody you didn’t love. Maybe her mother was right, and she’d read too many romantic plays, letting them paint her view of reality in unrealistic colours.

The palace-life had made sure to scrape every last layer of paint off of her.

Ursa was jolted out of her thoughts when the door swung open and Ozai strode in. His face was impassive and unreadable as ever, but Ursa could see that he was even paler than usual. He seemed strained.

Suddenly, she became acutely aware that one wrong word from her could make it apparent that she was too relieved, that she was in the mood of victory. She didn’t know whether it would appear normal or tick Ozai off if she’d offered him the tea instead of simply sliding the cup over to his place. Was she overthinking this? No, she only had this one chance to free her children, to free _herself_.

But Ozai sat down on the other chair and took a teacup from her side of the table without hesitating. Ursa allowed herself a tiny breath of relief.

Like she had done earlier, Ozai glanced out of the window.

“The sun is rising.”

“And you with it, Fire Lord Ozai.”

“You have aided me greatly, Ursa.”

“It was a necessity.” Ursa hoped that her defiance and hatred didn’t show in her voice as much as she felt it.

Ozai took his first sip of tea and Ursa followed suit, relaxing even further as the horror finally neared its end.

“Wise words from you, dear wife.”

Goosebumps broke out over Ursa’s arms at the title. From an outsider view, it might have seemed tender, but to Ursa, it was a clear reminder of her position, of her _role_ in this family.

Another sip; Ursa followed.

“I promised you the throne and it shall be yours. Now, please, Fire Lord, promise me, on your crown, that you will spare Zuko.” It hurt her heart not to include Azula in the vow, but she wouldn’t risk drawing attention to any potential imperfection from Ozai’s golden daughter.

“I promise as the Fire Lord, on my crown, that I won’t kill our son.”

Ursa gave him a small grateful smile that was hidden by fine porcelain as she drank half of the tea. Unbeknown to her, Ozai did the same.

“So, what will you do now?” Ursa felt the need to draw Ozai’s attention away from their current situation.

The look Ozai gave her practically yelled at her that she was stupid and slow to even ask such a question. Ursa took it straight in, as she’d done for so many years, and waited.

“I will win the war, of course.”

“Of course,” she echoed faintly.

She just had to wait a little longer. Soon, it would all be over. But Ursa found it hard to concentrate on their conversation when her head was already flooded by thoughts of relieve and peace. She would finally be able to raise her children without the ever-looming oppression and danger that Ozai had become.

In an attempt to ground herself, Ursa reached over the table and took Ozai’s hand in hers. He met her eyes and, for a short moment, Ursa could see genuine surprise there before he slipped his perfect mask back in place.

“You will no doubt win the war, my dear. After all, now nothing is standing in the way of your genius anymore.”

As Ursa saw Ozai’s shoulders relax a bit further, his whole posture slumping forward the tiniest bit, she couldn’t help the thought that she was not only calming her own nerves but also soothing a dying man - even if he wasn’t aware of it.

Only the reminder that, had she not acted this way, she’d be holding the hand of her own child dying right now, shook her out of this solemness.

“You are right, Ursa. In war, sacrifices are necessary.”

Ozai’s voice had grown quiet. The vibrating sharpness that usually underlined each of his words was missing. Ursa allowed herself to relax even further, the adrenaline of the night finally seeping out of her body.

Ursa almost countered Ozai’s statement with the observation that war was not always a fight between nations or people of different heritage. No, sometimes war was happening within a royal palace, within a family that should be a loving unity instead of a battlefield. But that would be a discussion she’d rather have with Iroh once he returned from grieving poor Lu Ten.

Ursa averted her eyes from Ozai’s. She would not, could not, watch the life fading from those deep golden irises.

Outside, the sun was finally rising over the horizon. Ursa found herself strangely mesmerized by the view. She was no bender, her chi was not connected to the sun the same way a bender’s chi was. But she, too, was one of Agni’s children. 

“It was a necessity, Ursa”, Ozai said. Suddenly, the new Fire Lord rose from his seat, towering over her, the sun glinting in his piercing eyes.

Fleetingly, Ursa was aware that this was _wrong_ , that she should be terrified, but the sun’s touch on her skin was soothing as it grew brighter and brighter, whitening more and more of her vision. Her senses drifted away and she let herself sink back into the embrace of the blinding light. 

With her last thoughts, Ursa prayed for her children.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I painted Ursa as a better person/mother here than she, in my opinion, is in canon.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this little story.


End file.
